As much as I wanted him to stay, I knew he had his own work to do near the river. He promised to be back in a day or two with some more sheep and goats to help mow down the ever-growing lawns, but for the time, he’d leave his horses. Food for livestock was slim, too. By rotating the larger breeds, each would have the opportunity to graze until they returned.
The work on the soup started before the children finished their morning meal. As I suspected, a line of Citizens had already formed in the road, and a pile of thistle grew at our entrance. Trisk reminded everyone not to cross over the gulch without an Authority guardsman at their side. Early on, I would have expected the men to object to the notion, but I found they were more than accommodating to the request. In fact, they carried bowls of the broth whenever possible, making distribution go twice as fast.
I spoke with residents and thanked those who brought in thistle. When asked what else we needed, I suggested they bring stones to make a shelter for the children. As people left, they must have shared the information with others coming emptyhanded, because we started receiving them that very day.
Over the course of the next few days, people learned we shut down service at dusk. As such, crowds formed at the gate before sunrise. Numbers dwindled by the late afternoon, and I assumed the Authority assigned to us maintained this pattern to clear out all visitors by sundown. Begrudgingly, I came to agree to the practice. Citizens would keep coming if they weren’t turned away. With demand never-ending, our volunteers would suffer, and eventually, we wouldn’t have the manpower to continue.
We finally fell into a predictable routine. People learned what we expected of them while waiting, and our field kitchen operated more efficiently than ever. A rhythm flowed among us that was as pleasing as it was successful. By my best calculations, we were serving five times as many people with less difficulty than when we started. The only thing preventing us from doing more was the limited number of pots we had to cook with.
I was helping to put the last batches of soup over the fires when a group of men pushed their way through the line. Two of our guards tried to control them and would have if they were not so outnumbered. The conflict caught Kii’s attention, too. The color left her face, and her hands let go of her pot. Uncooked broth and herbs spilled everywhere.
“Kii, are you all right?” I ran to help her.
She stared fearfully at the men causing the ruckus in the street. They were the men who’d tormented her. I didn’t need to see their faces to know. Hers said it all.
As we feared, the Woodsmen had finally come.
With the aid of a few more men of the Authority, our men tried to control the situation by intimidation alone. Not wanting to start a riot, the men in uniform were pushed back by the new visitors. The Citizens, who had been patiently waiting, gave the newcomers a wide berth, grumbling amongst themselves as proof of their anger. I didn’t blame them; this small group of men seemed far too confident and unapologetic. The Woodsmen demanded to be served despite the blades in their hands and the arrows drawn.
Leaving Kii and the mess, I ran out to the street, holding my stomach to minimize its bounce. Neither side would give in to the other, and I feared innocent people—my guests—would be injured.
“Stop it!” I yelled. “All of you! Stop!”
Both groups took steps back, their weapons still taunting their opponents.
A dirty man snorted. “Aw, a woman with a little sense.”
He must be in charge.
An awful smell radiated from his flesh, although I found it difficult to separate his stench from the men who accompanied him.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“I want what’s in those pots.” He pointed his blade toward the cooking area.
“I’m sorry, you cannot have them. If you want to eat, you will wait in line like everyone else.”
The man glared at me, his arm at his sides, one hand searching for the perfect grip on the handle of his blade. He casually stepped toward me, causing one of the guards to come to my defense.
“Don’t.” I stopped the guard. “He’s not going to hurt me.” I stared into the eyes of the Woodsman, unwavering in my confidence.
He raised his weapon, aiming the tip at my cheek. “You want to place a bet on that, Scab?”
“Do you know why I know you’re not?” I asked him loud enough for everyone to hear while still keeping the question an intimate one. “There’s a man right over there who will take you out if you make one more move toward me or my people,” I pointed to Marsh who had his arrow drawn and ready to fire.
The man held his arms out wide. “Go ahead, big man.”
Marsh exercised restraint.
The man lowered his arms and turned his focus back to me. “So, sweetheart, how about dinner?” He tucked his blade back behind his belt.
“I told you. You need to go back there and wait, just like everyone else.”
“And I told you, I don’t wait in line,” he spat a wad of mucus into the dirt, “and neither do my men.”
Everything about him repulsed me, his look, his smell, and most of all his attitude. He’d only come to be a menace. He wasn’t hungry. His cheeks were plump not sunken. He had shelter. His face was not sunburned like the others. He had more than anyone else here, and yet there he stood, making demands. I didn’t want to help him whether it be food or anything else.
“You know what? You’re right. It won’t matter if you wait or not. If your men would like to get in line, I’ll happily give them the same courtesy I give these fine Citizens. But you? You will get nothing.” I tilted my head, and with a sweetness in my voice, I said, “Now, walk away from me, or I will make sure you are never able to walk again.”
His eyes turned from arrogant to angry. His chest puffed up, and he glanced at Marsh to see the arrow still drawn on him. “Are you threatening me and my men?”
“No,” I answered calmly. “I don’t think you understand. I never threatened your men. Just you. And let’s be clear; it’s not a threat.” I was careful not to break eye contact with this man.
The Citizens backed away.
“In fact, I’d like to invite your men to stay.” I addressed his men, “If any of you would like to remain here, under my protection, I will have you. But if you should go with this man, you cannot return. By choosing to be here, you are creating a new future for yourself. If you leave, you are choosing this man, whom I refuse to entertain further.” I folded my hands on my belly and wandered away from my aggressor. “As far as I see it, you’re all soon to be dead anyway. Who would like to try to stay alive?”
“You are a stupid, stupid woman,” the man warned. “You have no idea who you’re dealing with.”
I ignored him as I approached his men. “Anyone? How about you? We look as if we’re the same age, maybe you’re a bit younger. Are you even old enough to be coined?”
“Don’t you dare address my men!”
I spun around on my heels. “Why? Are you afraid they might not want to be one of your men anymore?”
“Shut up, whore!”
I stood right in front of a wiry young man. I smelled him. “You’ve not been with them long.”
“How would you know?” he stammered.
“Can I hug you?” I asked, and he shifted nervously, “If I do, will you try to hurt me?”
“No,” he forced out.
I put my arms around him and searched his memories. Because of the candy in his system, he did not fight me at all. He was smart; I bet he would make it far in the Woodsmen ranks—if I didn’t take him from them.
“That’s enough!” Their leader grabbed my shoulder but quickly let go. He fell to the ground wailing, an arrow sticking out of his leg.
Marsh prepared another as he strode across the yard.
“You bitch!” the Woodsmen yelled. I stepped away as his men rushed to him to lift him up. “You’re dead,” he cried. “Dead! You hear me?”
And then he showed the gravity of his threa
t.
Uncurling his bloody fingers, he held out his hand, making sure I clearly saw his palm.
Kash’s mark.
My heart sank as the man swore repeatedly his intentions of murdering me and dismembering me piece by piece. “…then I’ll cut that bastard from your body and eat it with the milk I’ll siphon from those glorious tits!”
Citizens fled from the threat for fear they too would fall under his curse. His men helped him limp away while he painfully shouted his plans for my death. “I’ll pull your joints apart and feed pieces of you to my dogs while my men fuck the holes they slice open in your flesh!”
I swear, the gods themselves heard his ideas and were sickened by them.
Standing in the middle of the road, I found myself alone. A few stalks of thistle, a small pile of stone, and a blood trail were the only evidence anyone had ever been there. Everything we’d worked so hard to create was gone in an instant. Whatever trust and goodwill we made was lost. I looked down at the scars emerging from under my sleeve, knowing my life was not the only one I’d bargained.
“Come, my Lady.” A guard startled me. “We must get you inside. Don’t worry, we’ll all keep watch. You’ll be fine.” He put his arm around me and led me back into the yard.
While his words were strong and confident, his thoughts said something different entirely.
“They won’t come tonight,” I said, feeling weak.
“It won’t matter if they do, my Lady.”
Marsh ran to my side and collected me from the guard. “Thank you, I’ll take her from here.”
Seeing the fearful faces of the children, I shrugged him off and forced a smile. “Everything is fine. I just need to sit down for a moment.”
Once inside Marsh’s tent, my legs buckled under my weight. My brother caught me and gently helped me down on his blankets. Guilt and regret crushed me long before fear had a chance to eat at me.
What’s the harm in giving them cups of broth and sending them on their way?
But I knew better.
I had to stand up to them. To do anything otherwise would have set a precedent I could not change. As the wife of the Lord of the Authority, I must ensure justice. I couldn’t cower to the Woodsmen’s demands; how would the Citizens interpret that? Political aspects of the situation aside, those men were just plain wrong. It didn’t matter who they were.
I knew there may be a Woodsman in the line from time to time, and so long as they weren’t a problem, they would be served like everyone else. These men weren’t hungry at all. They came to control us the same way they controlled the woods.
I’ll shut this whole thing down before I let Kash and his men take control of it.
I rolled over and fixed my eyes on the ceiling of the tent while Marsh sat next to me. There was nothing to say anyway. I couldn’t take back what I did. It was done.
Now, we wait.
Although I didn’t fully understand the power of Kash’s mark, I had learned Calish wasn’t overexaggerating. I’d seen its influence firsthand.
Outside, Sterle called my name. “Miss Una! Miss Una!” She ran into the tent, breathless from running. “Miss Una!”
“What is it?”
“That boy you hugged?” She held on to one of the tent supports, grabbing the cramp at her side. “He’s back.”
Chapter 35
Across the property, our guards surrounded the young Woodsman, weapons drawn. It was the first time I saw all our guards active at one time, and the ability they represented was impressive. Not generally a fan of such use of power, I found some comfort in seeing the intruder so outnumbered.
Kii stood with the children, huddled together with soup in their hands. Giving them a signal not to worry, I headed toward the prisoner.
“Give the word, my Lady, and he’ll be a problem no more.”
I pushed my way between two of my men, and their circle widened to accept me against their recommendation. I raised my hand, and they fell silent.
“I want to talk to him.” I circled the boy, drawing in the stench of his addiction. “Why are you here?”
He swallowed hard, glancing at all the implements of death pointed in his direction. “You said I could stay. I know I left, but…” His voice faded as he shook.
I held out my hand, palm up. “Now would be the time to get rid of any weapon you have. Anything we find on you will look suspicious.”
“I don’t have one. You can search me.” He slowly laced his fingers together over the top of his head. Marsh joined us, and with a nod, I gave permission to pat him down.
Marsh ran his hands along the boy’s arms, down his torso, and between his legs. When he stepped into the circle of guards, I continued.
“You’re still affected by the herb candy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” His eyes dropped as his hands did.
“You will be monitored until it has left your body. You’ll give up your freedom and be restrained until I feel we can trust you. If you make a fool of me, you’ll be dismissed from our protection. If you harm one of my children or anyone in my care, I’ll kill you myself. Are you willing to accept these terms?”
“Do I have a choice?” he mumbled.
“We all have choices. You don’t have to stay here,” Marsh corrected him.
“The Woodsmen will take both my hands and possibly my head if I return.”
“Isn’t there a third option?” I asked.
“Not if I want to live.”
“Give me your hand.”
He hesitated before offering it. I searched him quickly to assess his intentions. It wasn’t my best work, but my wolf-spirit limited my ability to fully engage with his memories. While I saw what led him to the Woodsmen, I didn’t see much more before I felt awkward holding his hand. Sure I’d have other opportunities to read him, I pulled away.
“Have you ever hurt one of my children?”
He shook his head vigorously.
“Have you ever hurt any children?”
My guards squeezed closer.
“No. No, I did supply runs. Most of the time, I carried water from the stream. Back and forth every day. That’s all I did. I swear.”
Truth.
“We are not the Woodsmen. If you want to leave, you may at any time. We will not make you do anything; however, you will participate in chores, and you will treat everyone with respect. We have rules, and breaking these rules has consequences, including being banished from our family. Do you understand?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded. “Thank you,” he said, trembling.
After telling the guards to lower their weapons, I said, “If he so much as sneezes without permission, kill him.”
Marsh tied the boy’s arms behind his back. “Let’s go.” He pushed him forward over the bridge and onto the property. The Authority men said nothing, although they clearly disagreed with my decision to accept him. I was sure if Calish were there, he would have never allowed it to happen at all.
But he’s not here.
My brother forced him into the wagon and bound him to it. As he did, I asked each of the children individually if they knew the man who returned or had ever been treated poorly by him. If they had, I would revoke my offer and deal with him accordingly. Fortunately for him, none of them knew his face.
* * *
We survived the night, and except for the hushed conversations about the stranger tied to the wagon, the daily routine unfolded as normal. Under my feet, wilted grass lay flat against the dirt, and a twinge of guilt twisted my gut.
Nothing new grew last night. It seemed the Grower revoked their favor. I watched our prisoner sit slumped and asleep, hands bound firmly behind his back, no doubt the reason for the change in vegetation.
Sipping my tea, I turned my attention to the guards.
Perhaps the Grower isn’t one of the children after all.
Retaliation was but one of the many tools in the Authority’s employ. Did he decide to protest my decision?
No.
None of these men were present at all the areas. Some were at the coronation, others weren’t.
It had to be one of the children. I took another sip of my tea and watched their behavior. The older ones did better at masking their caution and concern than the younger ones did. The smaller ones kept close to an adult instead of running freely around the yard as they’d done in the days previous.
That’s why there was no new growth. The Grower was frightened. Since none of the kids knew they had the gift, they couldn’t wield it as a punishment against my judgment. As such, it could only mean one thing: the ability is controlled by emotion.
Let’s see if I can fix that.
I collected a few things and woke the prisoner. “Good morning, Tenor,” I said. “That is your preferred name, isn’t it?”
“How…how did you know that?” His eyes blinked, helping him to adjust to the sun rising over the horizon.
I shrugged, offering him a drink of water. He had many names: a birthname, a nickname, and the name the Woodsmen bestowed upon him. Since he severed his association with the clan, I saw no need to keep his alternate identity. If his family called him Tenor, I would as well.
“Tell me how you got the nickname,” I asked, taking the cup from his lips.
The memory, although fond, had a bitter end. I knew. I’d seen it. His face flashed a smile, then his jaw tightened to control his emotion. “I come from a family of performers. My sister and I had an act.”
“That supported you?”
He shook his head. “We worked the fields in Zoetica and Atchem. What we made in those two seasons kept us alive for the other three.”
“How did you come to be part of the Woodsmen?” I asked, cutting a piece of carrot root for him and placing it in his mouth.
We’ll see how truthful he is.
He chewed and swallowed. “Same as most of the others, I guess. My family decided to leave and make a new start somewhere else. We were several days’ travel on the other side of the hills, trying to make it to the valley beyond the Three Rivers.”
Scavenger Girl: Season of Toridia Page 41